An Honest Night's Work
by Scrapmask
Summary: Tonight is a special night for Cameron.  As he sets to work preparing, he can't help but reflect on his time in Arcadia...  A "Changeling: The Lost" fanfic.
1. An Honest Night's Work

"**An Honest Night's Work"**

**by Scrapmask**

Eight o'clock.

The sun's been down for about an hour.

I walk into the old house; its floorboards creak and moan objections to being trod upon. My ears twitch. I sniff the stale air. Dust, mothballs, old paint, piss somewhere. This was mostly a refuge for squatters.

It was for me, at least.

I'd lived here for some time after my escape. I had nowhere else to go. I didn't know anyone like I did now. I didn't have sponsors like Ted. I'd been homeless and alone. So I stayed here, on the outskirts of town. Eventually I got a new identity, and a new license. I got a job. And an apartment. I'm a contributing member of society now.

I'm about to make my greatest contribution.

I find the broom and begin sweeping. If I have to walk around barefoot, I don't want any pieces of glass or metal to cut my feet. If I leave behind any trace, my job is compromised.

Once the first and second floors are swept, I bring in the toolbox.

I set the gold box down then pull out the hacksaw. I go outside and note all the windows with trees next to them. After I find the ladder, I spend the next half hour sawing branches off.

Can't have anything near the windows. People might get ideas.

My sawing done, I find myself on the first floor. I take off my shoes. I feel the old wooden boards under my toes. I look down at my feet. Not as everyone else sees them, but as I see them. They are double jointed at the heel, with long stretched-out arches, the pads wide and springy. I thank whatever god I am supposed to that my appearance to others seems to be completely human. By whatever gift, my oversized feet have not intruded into my life too much.

But, man, can I run.

I'll need that tonight.

My elongated ears hear every sound. There are some rats in the walls. It's cold, but not cold enough yet that the crickets aren't chirping.

I take it all in. The smells, the sounds, the murky atmosphere. This is my night. I'd never thought I'd have a night like this while I was in Arcadia.

* * *

><p><em>The room stank of body odor and feces. When your bathroom is the opposite corner from your bedding, it's hard to escape such a stench. I remember that stench. I don't have many strong memories of this place, but that has never left me.<em>

_The dark lingered, with only a sliver of light coming from the spaces under the door and the slot they pushed food under. We couldn't light the only candle, because it was almost out. They hadn't given us a new one in days. I could hear them opening cells farther down the hall._

_Tilly was rubbing up against my shoulder again. She was maybe six years my junior, and her eyes were always wide and endlessly wet. She reminded me of a mousey little puppy. The elongated fox ears didn't help. She had been in the cell long enough before me to have sprouted a thin layer of fur and a pointed orange tail._

_Everyone down there started to look like an animal. I think it's what the Hunter wanted._

_I felt Tilly rub against me a little more. She was always touchy. I think she just wanted to prove to herself I was real. Sometimes it's all I had to prove it to myself as well. She must have spent god knows how many months in this cell alone before I showed up._

_I heard the scraping noise of one of the slots opening across from our cell. I knew who it was before I even heard the "Hey, Nate!" come through our door._

_I slowly climbed down to the floor, leaving Tilly curled up on the bedding, and lay on my stomach. I opened the food slot and saw Gordon across the hall doing the same._

_"Must be another hunt today, hey guy?" he chattered at me._

_His eyes were beady, and his teeth were large. His rodent features were always smiling though. He loved to chat at me and Tilly. It was the only form of entertainment we had. Especially because his cellmate, Buddy, wasn't that talkative. I heard that Buddy had escaped before, during one of the hunts. But somehow he was recaptured and thrown back in his cell. He never spoke about it._

_"Here's to hoping you guys make it back in one piece!" Gordon said, any excuse to talk._

_I felt Tilly climb down to the floor next to me to look through the hole as well, her head gently bumping against mine. A minor confirmation._

_"We always make it back," I assured him. I added under my breath, "Unfortunately."_

_It had been months and months of this. Sitting in a cell, occasionally let out in the courtyard to exercise… keep the strength up. Then one day out of the blue, we would be released into the woods. We'd run like we'd never run before, trying to get away, hearing the baying hounds behind us all as we made a mad dash for freedom._

_We were always caught, though._

_I'd heard that the Hunter kills his first catch, and then has his footmen round up the rest of us over the course of the following days. Those nights were what we had lived for. A few wild days out in an endless forest, away from our cells, foraging for food and staying two steps ahead of the hounds._

_Feet trod the ground before me and Gordon, then my door was flung open. They never seemed to need keys. But the footmen almost immediately had me and Tilly pinned to the floor, attaching collars and leads to us._

_Even though I felt Tilly tense up, we never fought back. If we fought, we'd wind up with a concussion. That's no state to be in when they are giving you a chance at freedom._

_So we passively let them shackle us and drag us out of the cell, down stone corridors and eventually into daylight so foreign to our eyes it hurt. We were going to be let free… for a few hours or a few days, depending on how we ran. That was better than where we'd been._

_We were forced to stand lined up, animals all; ears, antlers, dark strange eyes, tufts of hair and fur._

_I caught Tilly's eye and gave a smile at her. "Good luck."_

_Her eyes got wider, and she nodded politely. I never did see her smile. I think she was more animal by this point, barely aware that she could speak._

_Her ears flattened and her tail flared up when a footman pushed her forward, urging her into line with the others around us._

_They unleashed us, and everyone stood still. Nobody dared move. They knew they would be shot through with an arrow if they ran before the horn. We waited patiently. Once the trumpets were blown, it would become every man for himself. I would have liked to rally Tilly or Buddy together, but in the chaos of everyone trying to get ahead, there was no way to strategize._

_I saw the Hunter out of the corner of my eye._

_He wore tanned leathers and furs from his hunts, and he had dark mahogany skin. His hair was a long mane, and from it sprouted sharp and cruel antlers that swept forward and then back. His eyes were narrow, always studying the space around him._

_He smiled as he sat upon his silver steed, wielding a bow with a quiver strapped to his side. Removing a long arrow with one hand and inspecting its shaft, he was satisfied with the wicked barbed edges and the razor sharp peek. One arrow was all it took, and you'd most likely bleed to death, unless another arrow found your heart._

_He lifted his hand and gestured to one of the footmen._

_The horn sounded. And we ran._

* * *

><p><strong>Continued in Part Two…<strong>


	2. Part 2

Nine fifteen.

It's silent. This place is so remote you can't even hear the highway down the road.

I've been walking around barefoot for a while now, so the magic can wipe away any trace of me. But I won't put my shoes on until I need to, just to make sure it takes effect.

I pull out the hammer and begin nailing windows shut all throughout the house. Once that's done, I inspect the doors. I nail a few shut, and leave a few open to entice. I clear out the closets of all brooms, handles, mops, axes, screwdrivers, any tools I find. The few that remain at least. I can't have those get into the wrong hands. I bring them all outside and throw them in the car trunk.

Once I'm satisfied that there aren't any weapons available, I begin to set dress.

I drag an old couch out of the side room and into the living room. I move chairs and tables and lights to make it more inviting. I make sure that there aren't many light bulbs. I leave one lamp completely unscathed, so they have some way to see in this room. Hopefully this will be where they would hang out before they split up.

I go down into the basement and find the old mattress. I clean it off and set it in the center of the room. I bring in some clean but worn blankets and pillows from the car to make the bed look nice and useable. If I'm lucky someone will get the hint and have a rendezvous down here. It's a simple trick, but I'm told it works.

The Ministry is full of all sorts of strange information like that. Ted had put me up to be a Minister in the first place. He said it would improve my standing in the freehold, and it would give me a mission. I had to accept.

The Ministry told me there would be five of them, all from my college. Or, rather, Nathaniel's college. I go by Cameron now. Cameron Barbeau. I had Nate going through classes and spreading rumors for me while I worked and did what I could for the freehold. He kept my old life nice and cozy, filling in for me while I was away in Arcadia.

I was lucky to have Nate. Whatever magic the _Others_ used to make him had worked. He was an exact replica of myself, except maybe a little more dispassionate. He'd been here when I'd come out of the Hedge. He'd sensed me, and come to find me.

Magic. I'll never get used to it.

* * *

><p><em>My legs worked hard. The hours of running track back at school were paying off. I was one of the fastest runners the Hunter had. My legs were nothing but working muscles and sinew. Pumping hard, barely making a sound.<em>

_My eyes were always darting around, looking for hiding places and potential predators in the brush._

_My ears had grown long, pointed like a jack rabbit, shifting and listening to the forest._

_My wide-bridged nose smelled everything, twitching and searching for familiar scents. Food, enemies, fresh dirt turned over by hooves. Anything was a sign for me to read._

_I caught a whiff of the Briarhound before he even came through the bushes at me. The sound was even louder to my piqued ears. I darted sharply to the left, cutting between two narrow trees. Once he was through the leaves, he was on me. Growling and barking._

_His fur is dark and matted unlike the stallion the Huntsman rode. This was clearly just a trained animal. And barely trained at that. But that doesn't stop his hungry eyes and foaming maw from being terrifying._

_Plus, the Hunter would hear the hound and come running. I had to ditch him._

_I began zigzagging back and forth, throwing the brute for a whirl. He couldn't keep speed with me when I was doing that. I hurdled a fallen log, but it did little to slow him down._

_I heard the pounding of silver hooves in the distance. He had heard the hound._

_I remembered a river running through the forest a little ways back. I figured it was worth a shot. My legs strained as I zipped ahead of the beast, his jaws snapping at me every time he came close. I actually managed to round on him once and leap over him-my legs stretching far across his back-and start running in the opposite direction. It bought me some time, but I could still hear hooves._

_I saw the river ahead, raging and deep. The steepness of the banks was too much to climb down. I'd used a wooden bridge the last time to cross it, but I was too far north now. I had only one chance to jump it._

_My legs pumped hard, muscles ached as I leapt through the air. I felt my foot touch the lip of the other bank… and then slip underneath me. I fell back, tumbling head over foot into the river._

_I could hear the hound barking at me through the cascading river as it rushed me downstream. I couldn't swim against it, and I was soon far away from the Hunter and his hound._

_I spent the better part of a half an hour trying to stay afloat and keep from drowning. Every once in a while I would hit a rock and be sent underwater once more, choking as I drifted on._

_Eventually, I washed ashore. Barely conscious, but breathing. In the distance, I heard dogs baying._

_I climbed to my feet, and began searching for a hiding place for the night._

_The time I heard hooves coming up, I dove into the root-work underneath a massive tree. I felt myself instinctually pull leaves and dirt up over myself before I lay motionless._

_One of the Hunter's footmen rode by on a dark stallion with horns. He never gave the tree a second glance. I rolled over once he was gone and nearly fell down a hole that led to a den under the tree itself._

_Once I righted myself and climbed up, I scanned the area, smelling, listening._

_Nothing was in here with me._

_I sat down and stretched, just as my track coach had taught me._

_I couldn't shake the feeling that my track training was why I was chosen as prey in the first place. The Hunter seemed to like a good challenge._

_"Then why did he grab Tilly?" I asked myself._

_I hadn't seen her in weeks, since the last hunt. I hoped every day that she had escaped instead of being captured. Or that she was holding up in some rabbit hole like I was right now._

_The hole was definitely more comfortable than the cell, with soft ground underneath me, roots and dirt above. I only wished I had some food. I'd have to forage later._

_I felt my stomach turn as I remembered that every once in a while, after a good hunt, the Hunter's footmen would give us an extra serving of meat._

_I suddenly lost my appetite._

_My scent wasn't anywhere for the hounds to find, being washed away by the river. I figured it was safe enough to curl up and sleep. As hard as I tried, though, I couldn't get myself restful enough._

_I lay awake all night, listening to the distant sound of dogs._

* * *

><p><strong>Continued in Part Three…<strong>


	3. Part 3

Ten thirty-two.

I'm moving the bureau in front of the old door now. Its white paint has been chipping away since the first day I'd seen it. No matter how many times I lock it or nail it shut, it still opens. Entrances to the hedge are like that. Some sort of magic to it. Likes to invite people into it, gets you nice and lost. Might never come back out again.

That's why I am here. I have to make sure this thing doesn't take any more victims.

It has already taken me once.

That awful night is still fresh in my mind. What the Hunter did to me. How he'd taken me. He'd tricked me into being here. Close to this entrance. Then he'd dragged me away to be his quarry.

But I'd gotten away, and I am going to make sure nobody else goes through this thing.

Once I have blocked the closet so there isn't easy access to it, I check the fuse box. It is in the basement, and I set it so that half the fuses are tripped. They'd only get power in the rooms I want them to.

Nate was probably at a party by now, spreading rumors of this place for me.

I open my backpack and pull out the plastic mask the Ministry had given me. It is a White Bunny Mask. I assume it is some kind of joke amongst them.

Probably because I look like a rabbit.

Plus I use the name Jack Hare for my legend. I'd helped Nate spread rumors of a serial killer who'd lived in town by that name, and Nate and the Ministry have been perpetrating the lie ever since.

There has to be a legend in order for this to work.

It is getting late; I should wrap up what I am doing and hide my car. I start my car up and drive it down the road, parking it the forest, about a mile away from the house. I pull out my backpack and start walking.

* * *

><p><em>It was another hunt, and I had gotten a solid start. I remember seeing Buddy lopped off in the opposite direction, lumbering like the bear of a man he was. I'd made it ahead of everyone, and could hear the horns sounding behind me. The Hunter and his men had given us a twenty minute head start. Maybe a half an hour. Not very sportsman-like of them.<em>

_I ducked under branches, darted through bushes and over roots. I managed to find a little hollow in-between a dozen or so trees to catch my breath._

_My ears twitched as I heard something move overhead. I craned my neck back and saw small, rodent-like features staring down at me._

_Gordon tried to climb higher. I hadn't seen him since the last hunt._

_"Gordon! Gordon, it's me!" I whispered._

_I heard a snap as a branch gave way. I managed to cushion Gordon's fall, halfway catching and halfway falling over with him in my arms._

_It was a stupid risk to try to catch him. I could have sprained an ankle or something._

_I rolled him off of me._

_"Oh, thank you. Thank you!" he chittered at me, climbing to his knees, dusting himself off. He asked, "How far behind you is the Huntsman?"_

_I groaned as I climbed up. "Maybe half an hour. We should get moving!"_

_He nodded at me and chattered a bit more while I began searching around the trees for hiding spaces._

_"Am I happy you're here!" He said, "I've been out here for a few weeks and I haven't had anyone to talk to."_

_I gestured for him to follow as I slowly walked out of the hollow. He slunk behind me, chattering as we slowly drew further away from the sounds of the hunt._

_We'd apparently chosen the right direction, because the hounds kept getting softer and more distant. After a while the only sound was Gordon._

_"Boy, I thought I was halfway back to the normal world by now! I could have sworn I'd made a good amount of distance between me and those guys. I ran for days, I swear! But here I am, right back in the hunt again, aren't I? Doesn't that just figure?"_

_His voice dropped off for a while as he tried to catch his breath from keeping up with me._

_I found the river that ran through the forest, at an area where the banks were less treacherous. We stopped for a drink. We scooped up handfuls of water into our parched mouths._

_There was no longer any sound of pursuit._

_Gordon tittered on. "Boy, oh boy, am I tired! I should find me a soft bush to curl up in or something! I think there's a nice fruit tree near here somewhere. I ate a feast of them a few days ago! Maybe we could find it-"_

_I cut in. "No. We have to keep moving. We aren't being chased right now; we should take advantage of that."_

_Gordon made a huffing noise._

_We walked for an hour or so before we found a fallen tree that crossed the river. I shimmied across it, and Gordon came along shortly after. We continued our trek for some time, Gordon chatting all the way._

_"I wonder how far to the normal world. Hey, I ever tell you how I was taken?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Oh, but it's a good story! How my car crashed and I had to climb out of the passenger window… Accidentally stumbled into some weird house nearby-"_

_"Gordon, we need to keep our minds on track here."_

_"Well, talking helps me think!"_

_"Fine. If you must. Just don't make a noise if we start to hear the hunt again."_

_"Ah, don't worry about me! I can be quiet as a dormouse."_

_I kept walking._

_"Like a few hunts ago," he said, "I was hiding in a tree, like I was earlier. But it was a much better tree then. Anyways, I was hiding and not moving around, until that fox girl started climbing the same tree I was in!"_

_I froze. My ears perked up._

_"Can you believe that? The hounds were right on her and she was climbing my tree! I tried to shoo her away, but she kept trying to get on my branch."_

_I turned to face him._

_"But the hounds were close," he said. "I couldn't let them find us…"_

_He trailed off as he realized I was looking at him._

_"Tilly?" I said. "You saw Tilly?"_

_"Well… Yes. I just… She was climbing my tree and I was afraid that the hunters might find me…"_

_I felt my chest tighten as he trailed off a second time. "Gordon? Where is Tilly?"_

_He began to fidget with his fingers. He stammered a little. "Sh-she just k-kind of, I kicked her away from my branch, and sh-she just… sort of fell down."_

_My fists tightened. I loomed miles over Gordon as he shrunk. I bellowed, grabbing him by his dirty clothes. "What happened to her? Tell me!"_

_Gordon almost shouted, "The hounds got her! Then the Huntsman came and gathered her up! You don't understand! I could have been caught! He would have k-killed me!"_

_My rage poured over him. "So you killed a little girl instead?"_

_He began clawing at my hands to free himself, the miserable wretch. His beady eyes glared in terror, with his voice stuttering and his brow sweaty. He tried to explain away what he did._

_But I was tired of hearing him talk._

_My thumbs found their way around his windpipe, and my fingers wrapped around his neck, squeezing and gripping._

_He sputtered. The fact that he could still make sounds was offensive._

_He let a little girl die…_

_I dragged him down to the ground, and as I kneeled over him, pressed my hands down harder._

_He could have given me away…._

_My hands ached more than they had ever ached before. I felt his skin practically oozing between my fingers._

_He'd kept talking…_

_He stopped making sound. But the job wasn't done. I continued to squeeze until he stopped moving. And then I squeezed harder._

_He'd let a little girl die._

_I squeezed and wrenched and strangled until I heard a pop. I had dug my fingernails into his neck, leaving bloody crescents on the sides of his throat._

_I let go of his limp body, and I wept._

_I'd never cried since coming here. But now it all came out._

_I started running._

_I ran faster and harder than I had ever thought I could. I ran through the night. I couldn't feel the exhaustion._

_After the first night, I only stopped running to sleep and eat whatever food I found… which wasn't much. I just ran and ran. Hoping to find my way out, that the hunt wasn't after me. I don't know how many days I ran, but I eventually wound up in valleys of thorns, following narrow corridors and cracks in the spiked carapace overhead. I wondered if Buddy had made it this far._

_I kept remembering the room I was taken in. An old house on the outskirts of town. The closet door had flung open and the hunter had dragged me away. I couldn't even remember why I had been there, but I remembered what he did to me. I desired nothing more than to go back to that room, to that house. To never have cross that threshold. To change what had happened that night._

_It was possibly weeks before I found the door. My desire had lead me here. It was a simple door with cracked white paint sitting in the middle of a thorny forest. My fingers trembled as I reached for the familiar knob… and I opened it._

* * *

><p>Eleven Forty-Five.<p>

I'm sitting in a closet, holding my plastic mask in one hand and turning my hunting knife over in the other. I'd thought of a straight razor, or a sickle instead… but they were mostly slashing weapons. I liked a good jab. The knife had been a gift from Ted.

I can hear the front door opening now. My heart starts pounding as my stomach does a backflip.

They're here. Just like the Scarecrow Ministry had said.

The college students are no doubt a little drunk or stoned by now. It's almost midnight on Halloween. How else would they be getting the courage to go adventuring in a ramshackle house in the middle of nowhere?

I breathe deep. Remind myself that this is for a purpose. They are going to be the first and hopefully last victims to my legend. My legacy.

I slip the plastic mask on, and I feel it contort and shape itself to my face. I can't see a mirror, but I know the face is an eerie and dead-looking rabbit head.

Magic. I'll never get used to it.

I hear laughter downstairs, making its way further south. If they went to the basement first that might give me an opportunity to lock the front door. If what the ministry said was right, there are five of them. I have to make sure all but one remain. One survivor.

One story teller.

Someone has to tell the story of Jack Hare. How they survived, where the others died at the hands of a masked maniac.

Someone has to tell others that what they do has consequences. Even if you don't feel them right away, what you do _matters_. If you put yourself or others in unnecessary danger, you are a threat to the safety of your community. When you wander off the beaten path, you'll find death. You'll find terror. You'll find boogeymen.

You'll also find me.

I'll sneak up silently, and slit your throat, cut out your heart, and put it on display. You'll be a message for all to see.

Believe me, it's a mercy compared to what the_ Others_ would do.

Don't laugh at the old stories; they find you much funnier and far less impressive.

They could steal you away in the night, take you from your bed and make you their prisoner, their prey, their toy. These monsters are real, and the danger is severe. You could end up like me. Or Tilly.

But if I find you first, you'll end up like Gordon.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes: Thanks to OllieLemur for editing.<strong>

**This is my first fanfiction; feedback would be greatly appreciated, even if it was just to tell me you read it!**

**Thanks for reading. Please leave comments; it lets me know what you like, so I can write more of that. Hope you liked Cameron as much as I do! - Scrapmask**

_("Changeling: The Lost" setting is copyright to White Wolf Publishing. I thank them for letting me play in their world! All praise to the White Wolf! All characters in this story are original.)_


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